Pickup Poem Day 10

Nintendo Switch

Wasn't I the smart one, buying up

worlds right before they closed.

A little park to hoard escape,

no numbers but zero

and one in soft costumes.

That morning the game started

to move me, upwards,

unconsenting, I broke. Spat

at luck. Blamed myself

for joy drifting. Took my coffee

and Googled it. A ghost-

controlled community

of lament. Happens to almost

everyone, soon enough.

No fault in our unsaved

princesses, our fertile islands.

They built the piece that senses

our intention much too thin,

bound to shift and wear, the fate

of anything made small enough

to carry.